


You Are My Lighthouse (I'm Drowning in the Darkest Ocean)

by RobinsonsWereHere



Category: Psych
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sensory Overload, Shawn Whump, Whump, henry is protective of his son, juliet has to deal with a high shawn at 1am, karen is displeased to be woken at 3am, she handles it well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18417869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: While investigating a private case, Shawn gets drugged. His first solution, through the haze of overstimulation, is to climb Juliet's fire escape. It's not exactly the best possible solution.





	You Are My Lighthouse (I'm Drowning in the Darkest Ocean)

**Author's Note:**

> Feat. Concerned Jules, Even More Concerned Henry, Not-A-Medical-Professional Gus, Sleep-Deprived Karen, Lassiter, who doesn't plug his phone in at night, and Woody, who's just happy to be included!

Shawn Spencer is 90% sure he’s stopped breathing. He wouldn’t know, really, because his entire body feels numb but his mind is alight with far too much sensory input and it’s not a good combination. He should have brought Gus with him, should have called his dad when he found a lead, should have followed Jules’ ‘text before you go anywhere that could be dangerous’ rule but he didn’t do any of that, and now it’s all a moot point because the jackass he’d been following is long gone. He’d made a run for it as soon as he’d injected Shawn with some sort of drug cocktail, hence the body-on-fire-but-also-kinda-numb feeling. He stumbles and leans against a brick building, noting with relief that he can feel the harsh scrape of stone against his skin.

_ThinkShawnthinkyouneedtogosomewhereyouneedhelpyou’reminutesawayfromfuckingcollapsinginanalleywaywheredoyougonowTHINK_

He groans aloud, too loud, and the noise echoes through his skull. Or has he even made a noise at all? Shawn shakes himself and stands, trying to get a handle on all the sensations coursing through his body. He’s regaining his sense of touch in a big way, and now it feels like his skin is alive separately from the rest of him. He wants more and less at the same time, he wants his brain to stop focusing on every bit of information it acquires, but he also wants to feel more on his bare skin, he wants someone to touch him, he wants someone to soothe away the chaos that his overstimulated brain is creating-

In a moment of clarity, Shawn knows exactly where he needs to go.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||

Juliet wakes with a start, though she’s not sure what’s woken her. After a second, she hears the rattle of her fire escape- that must be it. She sits up in bed, hand going under her pillow. She knows some people (her partner is the first that comes to mind) would scoff at her for sleeping with her window open, but a) she lives on the fourth floor, and b) she sleeps with a gun. The detective cocks the weapon in question just as a shadowy form falls over her window sill. She approaches cautiously, but said form rolls onto his back and stares up at her.

“Hi, Jules.”

“Shawn,” she gasps, lowering her weapon. “What are you- why- you told me you were working late and wouldn’t be over tonight!”

“Yeah,” he pants, and she notices that his pupils are oddly dilated. “Yeah, I- I had to find some girl’s older brother, because she was worried something had happened but for some reason she couldn’t go to the cops, I didn’t ask why-”

“You had a client blatantly refusing to go to the police and you _didn’t ask why?”_

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem important at the time. Anyway, I found her brother, but he was mixed up in something, he didn’t want to be found. I didn’t figure out much before he jabbed me with a needle, and I don’t know what was in it, but I can tell you this much, it’s definitely some sort of stimulant.” Shawn stands, or rather, bounces up, breathing hard. He looks spaced out but also intensely focused at the same time. “Wow,” he says.

Juliet, still trying to process his breathless explanation, shoots him a confused look. “What?”

“The moonlight. Your hair. You’re fucking spectacular,” he elaborates.

She blinks, feeling a blush spread across her face. “Shawn,” she begins slowly, “let me get this straight. You went looking for a man you’d been hired to find under suspicious circumstances, found him, got drugged, and then came here and, instead of letting yourself in with a key, climbed my fire escape.”

Shawn looks at her, his brows furrowing. “I have a key?”

“Shawn, do you want to lie down?”

“That depends. Are you lying down with me?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “Shawn, you’re high as a kite right now. Not the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I just- Jules, I explained to you how my dad taught me how to turn my observational skills up to eleven?”

“Yes…”

“Well, whatever shit this guy got me with is doing that times a hundred, except I have no control over it, and it’s not just observational skills, it’s everything- and I mean everything. I feel like I’m not breathing at all but at the same time my heart’s gonna burst out of my damn chest, my skin is frozen and on fire at the same time, and there’s way too fucking much in my brain, I- I can’t think, but I can’t stop thinking-”

“Shawn, you’re gonna be okay,” Juliet promises. “Take deep breaths, please, I don’t want you to hyperventilate.” She steps forward, placing a hand on his forehead. She only intends to check his temperature, but as soon as her hand meets his skin, Shawn whines and arches into the touch. She stands on her toes to kiss his forehead, but he shifts against her and captures her lips with his. “Hey,” she reprimands when they part, “not right now, okay? Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some water, yeah? Then I can call Carlton and we can figure out how to help you.”

At first he pulls her close and presses his forehead to hers, and she thinks he’s not going to let go, but then he releases her with a shaky sigh. She gives him a reassuring smile and takes his hand, leading him gently from the room.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Having finished his water, Shawn sits on Jules’ counter, swinging his legs. She’s trying for the third time to get Lassie on the phone, but Shawn is quickly growing tired of sitting still. He vaguely thinks that maybe he wants food, but by the time he’s gotten to the cabinets, the thought has vanished from his mind. The psychic decides that he should rearrange his girlfriend’s cabinets and proceeds to do so. Thanks to the wonders of highly illegal drugs, this doesn’t keep him from being able to listen to Juliet’s conversation. Apparently, she has to leave yet another message.

“Carlton, if you don’t pick up your damn phone I will make you do all of my paperwork for a week,” she threatens. Then she must turn in his direction, because at pitch an octave or two higher, she says, “Shawn, dry pasta does not go in the fridge!” He thinks it should, or rather, he can’t think of any reason why it shouldn’t, but he shrugs and hands Jules the box anyway. She steps closer, looking at him with a worried gaze. Why is she worried? Shawn’s brain is in too many places at once to remember what, exactly, is going on…

“Shawn, do you have any idea what you might have been drugged with?”

Right. He’s been drugged. Shawn shuts his eyes, willing the memories to come, but everything is blurred and too sharp and he can’t get a handle on it. “No,” he says hoarsely, scaring even himself. _Idon’tknowIdon’trememberhowcanInotremember_

“Alright,” Juliet says, laying a hand on his arm. “Hey, forensics is closed this late, but I’m not sure we can get the right drug tests from the ER. You seem like you’re not in a dire situation, so can we wait for Carlton to call me back?”

Shawn nods, but he’s slightly worried he might combust if he has to sit still. Still, he lets Juliet lead him to the living room and give him a glass of water, which he drinks. Once he finishes it, the psychic takes a throw pillow in his hands and begins braiding the threads of fringe. He’s not aware that he’s breathing too fast until Jules lays a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths, Shawn. Talk to me.”

He stares at her. “I can’t sit still. I can’t calm down. I- the only thing that helps is- oh, fuck it, I’m- I’m fine.”

She laughs humorlessly. “I haven’t heard a bigger lie since you told me you were psychic.”

“I am psychic,” he mumbles, because he can’t keep anything straight in his brain and he’s not sure who knows what anymore. Maybe it’s a good thing Lassie isn’t here.

“What helps, Shawn? Talk to me.”

He leans into her. “You do. When you touch me, it- it gives me something good to focus on.”

She doesn’t even hesitate before turning to face him. She presses one hand to his chest and the other goes into his hair. Shawn sighs and lets his eyes flutter closed. Juliet gives him a gentle kiss and he practically melts into her, laying his head in her lap. She continues playing with his hair and he stares up at her, hazel eyes meeting blue. “I love you,” he says dreamily.

She sighs. “I know, Shawn. And one of these days, you’re going to say that when you’re not drugged or hooked to a polygraph, and we’ll actually talk about it. But it’s okay if you can’t yet,” she assures him. “...I love you too.”

Shawn kisses the back of her hand, and they lie there on the couch for a while longer before Juliet speaks again. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot. Gus works in pharmaceuticals!”

“Pharmaceutical means pertaining to pharmacy or pharmacists,” Shawn says. He isn’t sure why he knows that, but he does.

“Good to know,” Juliet responds, shifting him slightly so she can reach for her phone. “Hang in there,” she encourages as she dials. Shawn makes a small noise and curls into her even more.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||

Gus groans as his ringing phone tugs him from sleep. He answers, fully intending to let the caller know just how unhappy he is to be woken. “Burton Guster,” he answers. “It is two in the morning. Why should I be talking to you right now instead of sleeping?”

_“Gus, it’s Juliet,”_ his friend says. _Quick question on pharmaceuticals- what drug or combination of drugs would cause oversensitivity and hyperawareness? Um, maybe a special increase in sense of and desire for touch, or that could just be a unique reaction.”_

“Is this hypothetical or are you asking because someone we know has been drugged?” Gus asks nervously.

He hears Shawn’s voice as though he’s right underneath the phone. _”Gus, did you know I can recite a hundred digits of Pi?”_ and then Juliet again, saying, _”Honey, you’re just muttering random numbers.”_

Gus sighs heavily. “I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll be right over to get a look at him, and I should probably call Henry. Where are you now?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Henry breaks several speed limits on the way to Juliet’s apartment, but it doesn’t matter because for one thing, it’s two-thirty in the morning, and for another, his kid has been drugged; screw speed limits. He takes the stairs two at a time and nearly bursts through the door. “What the hell happened!?”

Juliet is on the couch with Shawn’s head in her lap, stroking his hair. Gus is rummaging in a first aid kit. “Someone we were hired to find shot him up with an unknown drug cocktail,” the latter explains.

“Dad,” Shawn says hoarsely, “Dad I can’t think. I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember. That never happens.” He sounds short of breath and panicky. Henry takes his son’s hand as Juliet rubs Shawn’s back.

“You’re gonna be alright, Shawn,” Henry comforts. He turns to Juliet. “Why isn’t he at the hospital?”

She’d been too preoccupied with Shawn to notice him addressing her. “What?”

“Shouldn’t he be taken to the ER?”

“Hospital drug tests are unreliable. If we want to know what exactly is in his system, we need a forensic lab.”

“The forensic labs aren’t open until eight at the earliest!”

“I’m aware,” she says quietly, “but right now, it looks like he’s stable enough to wait it out. Shawn you’ll tell us if you feel better or worse, yeah?”

“I think I know what it feels like to be one of those engines they put in the racecars now.”

Henry raises an eyebrow at Juliet. She chews her lip. “Gus he’s doing okay, right?”

Gus looks up from his textbook, where he’s scouring the pages for drugs that might have this effect on Shawn. “I am not a medical professional. I have no idea what this is because my knowledge does not cover what happens when you mix a bunch of drugs together. If you want the closest thing to my professional opinion, I think Juliet knows what she’s doing but if Shawn gets much worse, we should go to the hospital.”

“Thank you, Gus,” says Juliet.

“Jules, you have thirteen stains on your ceiling, only two of which look like they could be blood,” Shawn announces. She continues running her fingers through his hair, making calming noises. 

Henry huffs in frustration. “Okay, fine, but there’s gotta be _something_ we could be doing.”

Juliet sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll call Carlton again, but he’s not answering his cell-”

“805-618-3497,” Shawn rattles off.

“What?”

“It’s Lassie’s home number.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m psy-”

“You’re not psychic!”

“Okay, fine, I break into his apartment regularly for various reasons.”

“That’s illegal, babe.”

“Not if I don’t get caught. Just try the number.”

Juliet dials, and evidently it works, because the next thing she says is, “Carlton, why the hell aren’t you answering your cell?” and then, “You dumbass.” Henry hears her explaining the situation, and occasionally Lassiter’s responses get loud enough that he can hear him too. Finally, Juliet hangs up. “He’s on his way.” She glances down at Shawn. “Can you let me go put pants on, please?” Henry notices for the first time that she’s wearing a Bon Jovi t-shirt he thinks belongs to his son.

Shawn smirks. “What if I say no?” She rolls her eyes and pushes him gently off, leaving the room. Shawn rolls onto his stomach, then lifts his head and looks at Henry.

“Dad, there are twenty-six streetlights between here and where I was attacked. Fourteen alleys, six of which had people in them, including four drug trades, one drunk gathering, and a couple having sex. I only saw three cars but there were thirteen people-”

“Shawn,” Henry interrupts. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re gonna be okay. Juliet’s gonna get you all fixed up.”

Shawn stares at him, his hazel eyes verging on dark green in their dilated state. “It does matter, Dad. There’s all this stuff in my head but it’s not like it normally is, it’s like dandelion fluff that’s gonna fly away any minute. I’ve never forgotten a thing in my life but I can barely remember anything from the past two hours,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry moves to the couch and sits next to Shawn, forcing him to no longer stretch over the entire sofa. Once he’s sitting, Henry pulls his son into his chest and wraps his arm around him. “You’re gonna be okay, kid,” he repeats.

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Lassiter stands behind his partner’s couch, arms folded as he scowls at Henry Spencer. “If we take him to the ER we can kiss any hope of court-worthy evidence goodbye.”

“Do you think I give a damn about court-worthy evidence?” Henry exclaims, standing by the coffee table. “He’s running a fever of a hundred and four!”

“We’re doing what we can to get that down,” Juliet placates. “But if we can’t figure out what’s in the drug cocktail, or where it came from, if it’s being sold on the streets or not… a whole lot of people could be in danger.”

“My son is in danger! He’s got a shitload of unknown chemicals running through his bloodstream that show no signs of wearing off! If we don’t do something, he could die!”

_”Do you think I don’t know that!?”_ Lassiter takes a step back. Everyone else looks equally startled; to his knowledge, nobody in the room has ever heard O’Hara raise her voice. _”I know_ he could die,” she continues, her voice low and calm, but sharp enough to unsettle Lassiter, and he’s not even the one she’s chewing out. “I know if we wait there’s a chance we might lose him. But the situation isn’t dire yet, and I have a job to do. I took an oath.”

Lassiter doesn’t breathe for a few seconds, watching Henry stare down his partner. Finally, the older Spencer pulls out his phone and dials.

“Who are you calling?” Guster asks.

“A tiebreaker.”

“Technically, if it’s two against one, it’s not a tiebreaker.”

Henry’s jaw gets tighter with every ring of the phone. “Then whose side are you on?”

“Oh, no. They have guns and you’re scarily protective of Shawn. I am not taking sides in this.”

“Smart kid,” Henry says, and the whoever’s on the phone picks up, and he starts talking to them. “Good morning to you too, Karen.” Lassiter won’t admit to anyone else that a bolt of fear shoots through him when he thinks of the potential consequences to waking the chief at this hour. “I need you to override your detectives on their stances on ER drug tests,” Henry continues. “Yes, I know what time it is.” He sighs heavily. “Karen, look, yes, forensic labs are gonna be a better source for a drug report but we don’t have _time_ for that! My son is-” Lassiter sighs dramatically and paces around the couch to grab the phone from Spencer’s hand.

“Chief, if this is a drug ring, the results of Spencer’s drug test will be invaluable.”

_”I’m sorry, what happened?”_

“Not entirely sure. Spencer somehow got injected with an unknown drug-”

O’Hara makes a beckoning motion, but he holds up a hand. “-some sort of stimulant, we don’t know what it is- for god’s sake, O’Hara, let me finish my sentence!”

“You’ve been here for ten minutes! I’ve been here for two hours! Give me the damn phone!”

Apparently the chief can hear some or all of this conversation. _”Put me on speaker,”_ she orders. Lassiter does so. _”Explain to me what’s going on.”_

“Spencer’s dangerously high,” Lassiter offers.

“He was drugged by a guy he was hired to find,” O’Hara adds.

“We don’t know what drug was used,” Gus says for the umpteenth time.

“He’s got a fever of a hundred and four!”

“Unripe pineapple can be toxic!”

Lassiter swears he can hear Chief Vick sigh heavily. _”Detective O’Hara- and_ only _Detective O’Hara- please explain the situation.”_

When Juliet finishes running through the story for the fourth time that night, Karen speaks again. _”Henry- Lassiter and O’Hara were right to wait for a drug lab, but you’re also right that Shawn’s condition is dangerous. I’m going to make a few calls. Keep your phones on you, and be ready to move in fifteen or twenty minutes.”_

Lassiter sees Gus look doubtfully at Shawn, who is hanging upside down off the couch. O’Hara, steadfastly optimistic, ignores them. “Roger that,” she says, and the phone call ends.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Karen’s tired stare sweeps over the assembled team before her. Lassiter looks about as exhausted as she feels, Henry and Juliet are either holding Shawn upright or restraining him from running in circles, Guster has an armful of three textbooks and a water bottle, and Woody Strode, the only remotely qualified person she’d been able to get at this hour, is rummaging in his cabinets for the proper test equipment. With the exception of Shawn and Karen herself, they are all in pajamas. Santa Barbara’s Finest, alright.

“Woody, what’s taking so long?” Henry demands.

“Well, I think I have the right test, but there’s a different one that’s more efficient when it comes to autopsies, so the one I need now is buried under everything else. We could do the normal autopsy tox screen, I suppose, but I believe Mr. Spencer would rather keep his liver.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Actually, no. It would technically work.”

Karen resists the urge to drop her head into her hands, but she does give a small sigh. “Dr. Strode, please just find the correct test.”

“Aha! And this one is only three years out of date.”

“Does that affect the results?” O’Hara queries.

“Not particularly,” he assures her, “but it does increase the chance of certain side effects.” He pats the autopsy table as if expecting Shawn to sit on it.

“Side effects?” Henry asks warily.

“Woody, am I supposed to get on the autopsy table?”

“Merely an unpleasantly warm sensation at the injection site. And yes, that would be ideal.”

“Cool!” Shawn hops up onto the metal table, is carried to the end of it by his momentum, and nearly falls off. Karen sighs a bit louder. Woody prepares the needle and gives Shawn the injection, then waits. Apparently it takes four minutes before the blood can be drawn. They’re silent for approximately one.

“Woody,” asks Shawn, “is it supposed to feel like my arm is on fire?”

“Oh, well, that depends on your definition of ’supposed to’.” This non-answer is met with expressions of disbelief.

“Then define ‘supposed to’,” says Henry, through gritted teeth.

“Well, technically it’s not, but I’m not surprised, with the whole, ‘three years past the expiration date’ thing. I’m sure it’s fine.”

They keep waiting, Henry and Juliet moving closer and closer to the table until Henry takes Shawn’s hand and Shawn leans into Juliet’s chest. When the five minutes are up, Woody takes three sample of blood, just to be safe. “Okay,” he announces upon finishing, “unless you want him back on my autopsy table, I think you should go to the hospital room.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Shawn wakes blearily to the beeping of a heart rate monitor, and for the first time since his attack earlier that morning, his head feels clear. He looks around, rolling slowly to one side and then the other. Gus is asleep on a small couch. Henry is dozing in the chair underneath the beeping monitor. Jules has wrapped herself around as much of him as possible while still staying in her chair. Shawn smiles as she blinks awake, clearly having felt him move.

“Shawn,” she murmurs, sitting up. “How do you feel?” She lays a hand on his forehead and looks into his eyes.

“Much better,” he answers hoarsely, “but I’m thirsty.”

Juliet nods. “The doctor said you might be. Henry,” she calls, rousing his father, “can you give Shawn the water?” While Shawn is in the process of sitting up to drink it, Gus wakes.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” his best friend says. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much,” Shawn assures him. “My brain is working again, so that’s good.”

“Alright, well, I’m glad you’re up, but I gotta go,” Gus says, pulling on his jacket. “I have to finish my route. I’ll be back later if you’re not out already!”

Shawn waves goodbye, then turns to Jules. “You too?” he asks, pouting a little.

“No,” she replies, pushing his hair out of his face. He may not be high anymore, but he still loves it when she touches him. “I took the day off.” He beams at her, and she gives him a small smile in return. He frowns; something about her demeanor seems off, but he can’t remember enough of the night’s events to put his finger on it. His attention is pulled away from the matter by his father’s voice.

“Good to have you back, kid,” says Henry, sounding about as emotional as Shawn’s ever heard him. “You had us worried for a bit there.” He and Jules exchange a look, which is never good, and then Henry stands. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.”

Shawn turns to Juliet once his dad has left. She’s now sitting upright and looking at him with an intense stare, as if he’ll disappear if she looks away. “Jules, why is everyone acting like I almost died?”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “Shawn, you _did_ almost die. Your heart stopped, and it took them so long to start it again, and all I could think was that if you died, it was on me, because I was the one who prioritized the drug test over your health. At the time it seemed like the right call, but when I actually had to think about losing you…” she swallows hard, reaching for his hand. He puts and arm around her and she wraps him in a tight hug, crying into his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothes, rubbing her back in the same way she’d done for him hours ago. “I’m alive. I’m right here. You’re not gonna lose me.”

She lays on his chest for a while longer, then looks up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You came to me for help, and I jeopardized your safety.”

“I invaded your apartment at midnight, and you handled things admirably,” he counters.

She rolls her face back into his neck. “I love you,” she says softly, and he’ll be damned if that doesn’t make his heart skip a few beats. Shawn places his hand on her cheek and tilts her head up to look at him. He takes a shaky breath. “I love you too.”

She leans even closer and he pulls her into a kiss. His brain goes back to being unable to function.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, leave a comment or kudos!


End file.
